Preserving the writing of BB for posterity. Another project of the AntiPorn Activist Network.

Well, it’s all over and I’m breathing a gigantic sigh of relief. Last Tuesday I went to Planned Parenthood for the first of 4 visits in an effort to end this pregnancy. The first thing that struck me when I walked through the doors on Tuesday morning was the security. I was first buzzed into an ‘antechamber’, a small room that led to the waiting room. It was concrete and sported a large bulletproof glass window (at least I’m assuming that it’s bulletproof because it had wire zigzagging through it). On the other side of the window sat a nurse who pushed a drawer to me from the other side. Inside the drawer was a sign in sheet where I had to write my name and the purpose of my visit on. Security cameras watched my every move.

I signed in and the nurse retrieved the drawer with a little lever on the inside. Dubhe and I were then buzzed through the security doors and allowed into the next antechamber. This next room was also utilitarian. Indeed, it could be described as depressing. Chairs lined the room and there were no magazines or reading material. Another large bulletproof window lined the wall where the nurses stood behind the glass looking through it to the people waiting on the other side.

There was another metal tray which the nurse pushed through the wall to me as she said something through a microphone. I couldn’t hear her at all, but saw a clipboard in the tray which asked for my medical history. I filled everything out and sat back down nervously. Three other women were in the room with me as well as Dubhe. Dubhe was the only man present and I will note that he was the only man present for all of the visits except for the one on Friday.

We waited another 15 minutes or so after I filled out my paperwork and I had enough time to take a good look around me. Behind the bulletproof glass was a series of security cameras which took in every angle on the parking lot and the security room I had originally passed through. The room I was waiting in now had no windows save for a small rectangular one near the ceiling; it too was covered in bulletproof glass. It’s safe to say that I was very aware of the security measures that were in place. A few minutes later the door opened and I was ushered into the next room.

This next room was completely different from the other rooms I had thus far seen. Where the others were obviously designed for security this back room was set up more like a ‘normal’ doctor’s office. A small waiting room was at the center and a short coffee table sat between several chairs, magazines graced the top of the coffee table.

Dubhe and I went back and I submitted a urine sample. On that first visit they did a vaginal ultrasound to confirm the age of the fetus, as we had suspected it traced back to the condom breaking on September 15th. The pregnancy was at 6 weeks, but the gestational age was at 4 weeks (the pregnancy date is from the first day of your last period, not from the date of suspected implantation so the pregnancy date was approximately two weeks older than the actual age of the fetus). The nurse who performed the ultrasound was very gentle and very, very kind. In fact, she put me at ease almost immediately and I didn’t do that ‘freeze-up-and-clamp-down’ thing that I do during almost every exam of that sort I’ve ever had.

She asked if I wanted to know if she saw multiple fetuses to which I nervously responded, “No way! I can’t take care of one, two of them won’t change my mind” she laughed as well and proceeded with the ultrasound.

After that I had some blood work taken by another nurse who was very adept at finding the vein on the first try then Dubhe and I went into another room to listen to the counseling session. The nurse who counseled with us gave us our options and I explained that I was interested in the Mifepristone rather than the surgical abortion. We discussed the pros and cons of all the procedures. She asked me a few times if I was sure that this was what I wanted and I vehemently said “Yes!” I explained the nightmare I’d experienced thus far and she was clearly frustrated by the roadblocks I had experienced.

I had to listen to a recording by the doctor before being released and having another appointment scheduled for the following day.

The next appointment was a short counseling session with the doctor who was exceptionally friendly and sweet. We talked a bit and she explained that there was a 24 hour waiting period during which I’m supposed to ‘think it over’, she then explained that by law she had to tell me that. I responded by laughing and saying, “Yeah sure, as if I’ve thought about anything else since I found out I was pregnant”.

This caused her to laugh heartily for a few moments and she rolled her eyes and said, “I know, every woman who comes in here has spent way too much time already thinking about it.” After about 15 minutes with the doctor I was released again and yet another appointment was made for Friday. It was then that I’d get the pills. I was told that on Friday Dubhe could not accompany me into the back for the pills and so forth, I assume that this was yet another security measure and so we smiled and signed the consent forms and so forth and we were released again.

Friday morning I went back, I was warned of the possibility of protestors on Friday and had to sign an acknowledgement of this when I left on Wednesday. We pulled into Planned Parenthood at 8:00 a.m. on a rainy, cold day. Apparently protestors love life except for when they have to get wet while loving it. The parking lot was empty, and I smiled happily to myself while chuckling over how a little bit of rain and cold kept them away like the plague.

We entered and I hugged Dubhe and left him in the waiting second antechamber while I went into the waiting room. I was given the first dose of medication, Mifeprex, which served to make the pregnancy unviable. I was given FAQ sheets by the bunches as well as instructions for how to use the remaining medication.

I was given Doxycycline (an antibiotic) to take for 7 days to prevent infection as well as a bottle of anti nausea medication, 4 tablets of Misoprostol and an Rx for Tylenol with Codeine. I was told that there would be few, if any, noticeable side effects from this first dose of medication. I was instructed to take the Misoprostol the following morning to begin the process of expelling the fetus which would already be unviable by the time the expulsion began.

Dubhe and I spent a nervous night on Friday. My mother had come up to help us through this entire process and we chatted lightly about how awful it was that the place was virtually Fort Knox. She recounted stories about the pre-Roe days and told me how my aunt nearly died from an illegal abortion. We discussed politics surrounding abortion and my mother nearly choked on her tea when she read the hate mail I have received over all of this. She was almost in tears as she shook her head in confusion that so many would wish her daughter death for the crime of having sex.

She was offended that others would seek to condemn me so readily, of course, my mother is fully aware of my health problems as well and looked at me with tears welling up in her eyes as she said, “BB, you could die if you had a baby? Why would perfect strangers want you to die?”

This launched a long discussion about feminism, misogyny and punishment through forced childbearing.

The next morning (Saturday) I awoke from a restless sleep and began the morning regime. I had been instructed to take another antibiotic in the morning, followed an hour and a half later by the anti-nausea medication, a half hour after that I was to take the 4 tablets of Misoprostol and place them between my cheek and gum and allow them to dissolve.

Around 11:00 am I put the Misoprostol in my mouth and waited for it to dissolve. I began to bleed at 1:00 pm though the cramping began long before that. Indeed, I was cramping before the tablets were completely dissolved.

The cramps were severe and I was very glad for the Codeine, although it put me a bit out of sorts and groggy which wasn’t exactly what I wanted either. Despite the pain I wanted to continue to move around, my mother is a nurse and she backed up everything I had been told about laying prone. I had been advised at Planned Parenthood that walking around a bit would help the process move faster and would also result in smaller clots.

My mother and Dubhe monitored my temperature and Dubhe talked to me when the cramping became severe. In some ways it felt much like labor, although not as brutal as laboring with a full term pregnancy. It was painful but it came and went, sometimes it hurt pretty badly and then it would kind of fade away for a little bit.

At 1:45 I passed a large blood clot. It was about the size of a ping-pong ball although that’s a rough guess since I didn’t actually see it. It fell down into the bottom/back of the commode and was lost from view before I could even see it. The clots became a bit unnerving, not because I was worried about life or because I felt guilt or anything like that but because, well, passing large blood clots is bound to be unnerving to anyone *smile*. However, after the first large one there were no other huge ones.

I cramped for quite awhile and passed clots ranging from pea sized up to ping pong ball sized although none compared to the first one. Gradually the cramping eased and I was able to sleep for a bit while Dubhe ran to get us some take out. All in all most of it was over by about 4:30 pm and while I had a few pretty bad cramps after that time they became steadily lighter. I dosed up again with Codeine before bed and slept like a rock.

Overall the cramping was much stronger than I expected and it even surprised me at times with its intensity. For me, the cramps were far worse than the cramps associated with a normal period. The bleeding was lighter than I expected and the clots were more numerous, although smaller than I had expected. Sunday I was exhausted all day, my body ached, particularly my lower abdomen where my uterus is. I passed a few more clots on Sunday but the cramping was gone and the clots were about the size you would get with an average period. The bleeding had quieted quite a bit although I was told that this could vary from woman to woman.

My mother made sure I was ok in the morning and then she left to get back to my father. I was glad for her presence.

Dubhe and I spent the day chatting and hanging out on Sunday and I hugged each of my children who were all aware of what was happening with mom. They all told me they loved me and they were glad that I was ok.

I’m not supposed to ride the horses for a few weeks or engage in any heavy lifting which will be tough not to do since I’m very active however I’m still pretty tired today though the soreness in my belly has subsided quite a bit. I feel no guilt at all and there has been no ‘buyer’s remorse’ as it were. From the beginning of this, for a multitude of reasons, I knew I could not and did not want a pregnancy. The process was tough on my body and involved some pain but it was well worth it.

In January Dubhe will be eligible for his health insurance to cover a vasectomy; we’re looking forward to that with great anticipation. Overall, this has been a learning experience for both of us and I can quite safely say, with complete sincerity, that anyone who says, “Women use abortion for birth control” has never, EVER had an abortion.

That notion was dispelled for the complete idiocy it is within a half hour of the cramps starting. It’s likely that having been through this procedure myself I will personally wring the neck of anyone who is stupid enough to suggest that particular fallacy around me ever again. I can firmly say that I do not believe that any woman uses the equivalent of a jackhammer to the guts followed by bleeding and clotting as well as no intercourse and ‘light duty’ for several weeks as birth control. The notion is completely absurd and it’s disgusting to me that the forced birth movement has tainted abortion so much that a generally held belief is that you can have one and it’s just like taking a pill or slipping on a condom.

Now, however, I’m tired so I’m going to close this post but I’ll apologize first for the typos. I haven’t spellchecked this and I don’t intend to.

Well, the pregnancy test came back positive. You know, I put on a brave face for my readers and many of them keep saying that I’m courageous and brave. But they’re wrong. I’m scared. I’m fucking terrified. I’ve never been in this situation before and, truth be told, I never quite ‘got it’ before now. I guess it’s something that you just can’t understand until you’ve actually been there, as I am now. But the fact of the matter is that I’m blogging about it and I’m getting the shitty comments and I’m getting the helpful comments as well. More kind comments than unkind and that, at least, is something.

But I’m still scared; I’m still terrified at what’s happening to me. Questions shoot through my mind like angry wasps buzzing in my ear.

What will the clinic be like?
How many protesters will there be?
Will I be strong enough to wade past them or will I crumble and be shamed as they so wish me to be?
What will the doctors be like?
Will they be kind?
Or will they try to guilt trip me?
Should I tell my friends and family or should I be quiet?
How can I keep pretending to be happy and brave when I’m actually terrified on the inside?
Will it hurt?
How will I get over my phobia of gynecologists?
Oh gods, I’m scared. I’m so scared!
Will I be able to get over the fear of the speculum?
Will I get that thing where everything clamps down from terror and they have to tell me to ‘relax’ over and over again?
Will the doctor be a male or a female?
Am I stupid to be afraid of all of it?
How can I deal with the resentment I feel at Dubhe for not getting any of this backlash?
Is it horrible that I feel resentment in the first place that he hasn’t been the target of hatred?
Will this affect our relationship for a long while to come?
Is it horrible of me that I’ve refused to have penetrative sex since this began?
If I have to have a surgical abortion will it be worse since my cervix is fucked?
When they start talking about hormonal birth control should I speak up and tell them that I can’t take it or just take a shot and deal with it?

Sure, I put on a brave face, don’t we all? And, when you write things of a decidedly radical feminist bent you’re subjected to quite a few negative comments. I get plenty of hateful, nasty comments, I’ve been threatened before and I’ve been screamed at and insulted and had horrible things said to me. To be honest, you kind of develop a thicker skin, or at least you pretend to.

Some days I can laugh in the face of it but other days I’m worried and scared and can summon little more than a half-hearted, insecure smile. Am I brave? No. I’m not. I’m the farthest thing from brave that I can be without moving into complete coward territory. But I sure can put up a big front sometimes, and even better, sometimes I even believe it.

I’ve asked myself countless times why I even mentioned this entire thing on the blog. What was I thinking? Where the fuck was my head? I chide myself and condemn myself for opening this seeming can of worms. I self-blame, telling myself that I shouldn’t complain about the hatred because, after all, I put it out there.

But see, the thing is that it makes me feel good to write. That is what I do. Writing is the medium that I love more than any other expression. I never in a million years expected it to blow up the way it did. I never expected the links and the comments and the helpful and not so helpful advice. What I expected was simply to rage at yet another injustice. To be frank I never felt fear when I wrote that first post about the EC fiasco. Hell, I’ve followed news stories of similar things. While I’ve been blogging I’ve watched the news as woman after woman had a hard time getting EC filled or failed altogether in their efforts.

I’ve read the stories of the pharmacists refusing EC to women who have been raped. I’ve read them and I’ve raged with them, I never, in a million years, expected my story, one more story among vast oceans of stories, to get the attention it ultimately got. And if that was a surprise then the larger surprise was the hate that was also doled out.

To be perfectly honest I haven’t focused too much on issues of abortion and so forth. In this blog I have explored, in detail, my abusive marriages and relationships, my rapes and the lens of feminism that they led me to. This space has been little more than a public sounding board, a way to tell the world that Yes, these things happen, Yes, they happened to me and Yes, I am trying to heal from them after so many years.

This blog was created as a place for self-exploration in a public forum; it is also something I never thought I’d do. I have always kept journals, but they have never been read by another soul before, and here I was spilling out all this shit and damnit, it felt good. But I only dealt with the stuff that hit very close to home. Those things that had directly impacted me and forced me to look at things through a different lens than I had ever used before.

So writing about the EC thing didn’t cause me fear or concern. As far as I was concerned it was simply one more story in a landscape dotted with similar stories. I reckoned that my regular readers would leave comments of support and that they would be, in a sense, a shoulder to lean on.

It didn’t actually turn out that way though. For some reason this story went bigger than I ever thought possible. Even though I have read countless stories in the newspaper and online and in other blogs about the very same thing, for whatever reason this story, my story, was elevated to attention status. And wow, did it ever get attention.

I have often wondered why a story that has been told so many times would get this sort of attention while so many others haven’t. I felt guilt, and actually still do to a certain extent. There is a not insignificant bit of guilt residing within me that the voices of so many other women were ignored but for whatever reason, mine was heard. My readers know that while reproductive choice is important to me, as it is with all feminists, my main focuses on this blog have been rape, defining it, redefining it and discussing it. As well as the exploration of pain that survivors deal with on a daily basis. I am also notorious for my anti-porn stance and I devote much of my writing to discussing these topics.

Abortion, EC and so forth have made appearances here but my focus has been pretty much limited to the things that I have personally experienced. So, here I was in this position that so many others have been in and, for whatever reason; my story was picked up and read. And goddamnit, that makes me feel like shit.

*sigh*

Anyway, after writing about the EC thing I saw another area of feminism that I had not previously seen on anything more than a superficial level. I saw hatred and misogyny that was every bit as vile and horrible as the standard stuff I get all the time. People left comments, many, many helpful and wonderful comments. People also got angry with me and acted in ways that were abhorrent, cruel and dehumanizing.

I was told that the people who wrote such horrible woman-hating sentiments were simply ‘being jerks’. It was suggested that there is a number of people out there who just get off on being assholes. It was also suggested that some of these commenters were even pro-choice but that they just enjoyed and thought it funny to randomly attack people.

I called bullshit then and I stand by that now. Quite frankly if there exists people in this world who truly have no stance on a topic, or even who support that topic, who say these sorts of things to other people just for giggles then this world is a far sicker place than I ever imagined. It has been suggested that some of the commenters were ‘just people who get off on this sort of thing’, and it has been argued that these same people just ‘get off’ on insulting, threatening and debasing all others ‘just for fun’. It has even been alluded to that these same people may even be pro-choice but just enjoy cruelty, debasement and degradation for the sheer enjoyment of it.

If this is true, then what it boils down to is this: These people get off on cruelty for the sake of cruelty. They need no agenda; they just get off on kicking people who are down. People who are in pain, or scared or people who just plain care about something.

I cannot think of a more terrifying individual to be around. I cannot, in my wildest dreams, imagine a person who agrees with abortion telling another person that they are worthy of death just to be cruel.

Anyway as I was saying before I got sidetracked. After the posting on EC I was surprised and shocked, yet I was happy to see that so many people were getting the message that this sort of thing is happening to so many women. I am but a drop in the proverbial bucket on this one, many women have gone before me on this and many will follow after me. I took the attention and all the knocks I received and told myself, “Well, at least this topic is getting more attention now”.

And with that I resumed my writing, always knowing that there was a chance that the EC didn’t work. I watched the days and wrung my hands. I read up on abortion protesters and on the stories of women who have braved these picket lines. I read up on herbal miscarriage formulas and hoped that the worst would not come to pass.

Last week I looked at the calendar and closed my eyes before sighing largely. I was late. The first day I thought that perhaps it was my nerves, when the morning of the second day came I decided ‘no more excuses’ and I got a test. I knew that there was a strong possibility that I was pregnant but I was terrified to face that reality, instead, I stalled that first day, hoping beyond hope that I was just nervous.

When that plus sign showed up I fell to the floor and cried. The EC had failed and I was facing down a dragon. I retreated from the blog for a few days, sobbing in fear and worry while I did more in-depth research on my options. I calculated back and knew that I was but a few weeks along, indeed, this last Friday was 3 weeks exactly since the condom broke. Dubhe tried to take as much time off as he could as did I, but eventually he had to go back to work and I sat here, alone, when I had work to do.

I wrung my hands some more when I thought about posting the story at
The Den. I remembered the bitter sting of the hateful comments that were posted over the EC and decided better of telling the story. Then, one evening I was chatting with Dubhe something became clear to me. I was being scared into submission by the same kind of people who place shame onto the shoulders of a rape victim while forgetting entirely the other party involved.

I asked myself a few questions, “Would it help or hurt if I write about it?” and I realized immediately that this story would very likely help other women while simultaneously hurting me. It’s likely that this is a story that has been replayed many times and if I was feeling alone and scared then surely there were others out there who felt the same. I looked back over my time blogging and came to understand that it was precisely the knowledge that I wasn’t alone in my experiences that helped me so very much.

Knowing that you aren’t the only person who has experienced something gives you an immediate sense of relief and begins to wipe away the shame caused by feeling alone. Understanding that my story may actually help someone else is what prompted me to write that last post. Of course, as part and parcel of the writing, I would be making myself a huge target. So I spoke to Dubhe and told him that I wanted to do this, I asked him to take over everything on the blog for a bit so I didn’t have to deal directly with it. He readily agreed and so it has been.

The nasty emails have been coming, along with the kind ones and, for the record Dubhe has said that there are far more kind emails than nasty ones. A fact for which I am eternally grateful. The same holds true for the comments, by far there are more kind comments than hateful ones.

This entire thing has brought so many things to the surface for me. In some ways I’m in a catch 22. I refuse to play the forced birthers game of “Prove why you’re an exception to my no abortion policy” while at the same time there are things that would invariably shed a completely different light onto the situation if people knew it.

The fact of the matter is that I’ve realized, through all of this, that there are so many factors in any individual situation that they almost become moot. For example: I’ve wondered, as has Dubhe, why he became completely invisible during all of this. It’s as if his dick completely disappeared from the equation and it does not escape me that if I were using the pill and still got pregnant I would be accused of being irresponsible or, more likely, having made a mistake taking it. Thus the pregnancy becomes my fault.

However, what if I said that the condom broke because of user error? What if I said that Dubhe didn’t use it properly? Ahh, but see, there’s the rub. I’m still at fault for not taking the pill. It’s still my fault because I should have known and the pregnancy is still my fault. More than that though, I’m playing the ‘prove why I’m an exception to the rule’ game.

What if I said that I can’t bear children without risk of death? What if I told everyone that I had some medical problem by which I couldn’t carry a child? Of course, that still becomes my fault because if I knew that then why didn’t I get my tubes tied? Why didn’t I succumb to expensive and invasive surgery that poses a whole host of different problems to women who undergo it? If I say that I do not believe that invasive surgery with massive side effects is an acceptable birth control method then I’m just asking for it anyway and thus, the pregnancy becomes my fault again. Not to mention that again I’m playing the ‘prove why I’m an exception to the rule’ game.

What if I said that for the last 18 months I did exactly what the forced birth camp says I should do and I ‘kept my legs shut’? What if I said that the risk of conception was too much a risk for me to take knowing that I couldn’t take hormonal birth control and didn’t have the money for invasive surgery? What if I said that I wouldn’t let Dubhe stick his dick in me for the last 18 months of our relationship? Of course, then I’m borderline abusive for withholding sex from him, and everyone in the world sympathizes with him. Then I’m a frigid bitch who wouldn’t put out and should have just used contraception anyway so that he wouldn’t have to suffer such a horrible fate as not being able to stick his dick inside his partner. Of course, then I’m pandering to the ‘I’m an exception to the rule camp’ once again.

I could go on and on and it may be that these stories are real, that these individual factors do indeed apply to me or it could be that these are factors that other women have had. Either way, I won’t be baring any of the details of what happened to me, even though perhaps those factors would indeed take some of the heat off of me they will serve no purpose but to undermine any woman who can’t ‘explain why she’s different’.

Instead what I’ve done is watch curiously as people act just like people and forget that Dubhe was involved and forget that the birth control was on his penis and forget that for each and every single woman out there there is an entire set of factors that you can’t even begin to grasp.

I can point out that forcing a woman to play the ‘prove it’ game is simply a trap crafted to make women feel as ashamed as they can be made to feel while explaining why they are ‘different’. The fact of the matter is that no woman is ‘different’. Each and every single woman who has ever found herself in these circumstances has an individual host of reasons that a pregnancy is a bad idea for them and all of those reasons are valid.

There are also those who have stated that my story is ‘too perfect’ to be real. To be honest there’s little that I can say to that but it doesn’t exactly surprise me to hear some stand up and say that I’m lying. Indeed, women who undergo traumatic, life changing experiences are often written off as liars. The default position is to disbelieve everything we say. A woman who has been raped is clearly a liar for some nefarious purpose and a woman who is impregnated is also clearly a liar.

It is a common tactic to say a woman is lying if she’s saying something that a given person doesn’t want to believe is true. It’s much easier to accuse a woman of lying and write her off completely than to admit that there are things that happen with stunning regularity that are just wrong. I suppose that I could send them a piss sample to prove it, but why the fuck should I have to do that? Sure there’s lots of things I could do to ‘prove it’ but I know this tactic, I’m quite familiar with it as it is the exact tactic that people (mostly men) will use to defame a woman who has accused a man of raping her.

Indeed, the similarities are stunning. I’ve heard that I ‘should’ have known to get online and get a prescription ordered. I’ve been told that I ‘should’ have kept my legs closed. I’ve been told that I ‘should’ have done more to stop it. That I ‘should’ have known better than to let a man near me. I’ve been told that if my story was real I would have done this, and this, and this, and this differently.

All of this sounds strikingly familiar to, “You should have done more to stop it”, “If he really raped you then you would have done X”, “If you didn’t really want to be raped then you would have done this, and this and this to stop it”, “If you had fought him more and kept your legs closed then you wouldn’t have been raped”, “You should have known what would happen if you went up to his hotel room”.

What all of this has in common is a desire to be able to put your hands over your eyes and not see what is happening around you. My story is not unique; I assure you that it is not some big conspiracy. If the fact that it is ‘too perfect’ for your liking unnerves you then think about this: Every time a pregnancy occurs it is ‘too perfect’. Indeed, a pregnancy can only occur under perfect circumstances.

I have been researching and it appears that the EC wouldn’t have affected this pregnancy anyway since it doesn’t do much if you’re ovulating. When the condom failed I was in that few day window of fertility and from what I understand EC wouldn’t have done a damn thing anyway.

The simple fact of the matter is that nobody has to believe me, indeed, I will offer no proof other than my word. This blog has always been a journey for me, in which I write down my experiences and look at them through a feminist lens. It was never intended to be anything but that but for whatever reason (I still can’t figure it out) people decided that they liked what I had to say and they began reading it.

When I started this journey I wanted to finally share with others the things I have been through and experienced but I was too frightened to share these same things with people I knew. I decided to use the blog as a kind of cloak, behind which I could tell all and someone might hear. I wouldn’t have to see the look of disbelief on their faces when I told my story and I wouldn’t have to hear the ‘well you should have known’ crowd when they stepped up.

This blog began because I was too frightened to talk about so many things. Indeed, I still possess much of that same fear and my guts are trembling right now as I think about crossing that line of protestors. In short, this space was created as a safe space for me where people just happened to like what I was saying. If anyone wishes to believe that this story is false then so be it, there is nothing I can do to tell you otherwise and, to be perfectly honest, I will not endeavor to ‘prove’ anything to anyone.

I know I said that I was on hiatus but I had an urge to write this morning and decided that I’d just go ahead and post it anyway. Heh, I haven’t even edited this as I’m pretty much exhausted from writing it all out and now, I feel the way I would feel if I spent a few hours sobbing. Kind of relieved, really tired, and for some strange reason, a bit cleaner if that makes any sense.

I’ll have Dubhe put in a proper update soon, or I’ll do it myself as I get more information. Oh and you’ll note that the beginning of this post probably reads like a journal entry. It was intended to be just that actually, an entry in my private journal I keep on the computer, until I got further in and decided that I would post it in the blog instead. In any case, I don’t expect this post to be much more than stream of consciousness writing kind of akin to vomiting onto paper and feeling less ill for the effort but I thought I’d stick it out there in any case.

*sigh*. I haven’t felt motivated to post for several days for obvious reasons. Indeed, when I put up a quick update this morning I had planned to go outside and do a bit of garden work to clear my mind. However, I decided to delay my trip so I could read a few of my favorite blogs.

Over at The Axe Forgets The Tree Remembers I read a post by “Z”. It was a post in which she expressed frustration over how she hears fetuses being referred to in derogatory ways. Now, this post is not intended to attack Z, indeed, she makes a point that many would agree with, rather this post is intended as an explanation for the phenomenon that she has witnessed, at least on my part.

As I posted this morning the EC failed and I’m currently taking other steps while I gather the money I need to finish this thing once and for all. And you know what? Every time I think about it I refer to this fetus as a ‘parasite’, a ‘tick’ and other things I won’t even mention. Z expressed frustration and wondered why women would do this and I can answer her question. The answer may not sit well with her, or with anyone else, but nonetheless it is the truth.

I am fucking angry as hell that around every corner I am faced with people who believe that the life of this fetus is worth more than MY life, or the lives of my children.

It becomes a question of how much shit can you take before you begin to actually hate the thing in your womb. Since the start of this I have been told repeatedly that I didn’t deserve to live. I had a commenter tell me that if they ever met me they would rape me repeatedly before torturing me and murdering me in the most painful way they could (no, they didn’t tell me exactly how they planned to do this, I guess that they wanted me to leave it up to my own imagination).

I have been called a ‘filthy cum drinking whore who should do everyone a favor and stop breathing’. I have had emails sent to me in the guise of having helpful tips to cause a miscarriage but which really suggested lethal herbs. I have been given death threats, I have been called a murderer and I can’t even count the number of times I’ve been called a whore or a slut.

Just a few choice excerpts:

you dumb slut

you fucking retard

Ha ha, you’re a dirty whore

YOU DESERVED IT, YOU SLUTTY LITTLE WHORE

SHUT YOUR GODDAMN FUCKING MOUTH, CUNT

Your life is fucking worthless you goddamn slut

Please kill yourself now bitch

I hope you feel good about murdering your kid whore

Tough shit slut

You are a disgusting little shit of a woman

If I ever met you I’d fucking kill you like you murdered your baby, fucking whore

Die you fucking slut

Why don’t you just kill yourself now. People like you don’t deserve to live

Stupid whore. You spread your legs and now you want to murder a baby. I hope you get raped and murdered. Maybe then you’ll feel what that innocent life felt

This is a tiny sampling and this was the response I received at taking EC. How much can one person take before they begin to hate the thing inside of them? How many times can you listen to people tell you that you deserve to die, that they want to kill you? Or they want you to kill yourself?

How often can one person hear that a fetus is more important than their own life? Than the lives of their children? How many times can you be reminded that you are, to them at least, a sack of shit and not worthy of even living?

Am I cold hearted about this? You bet your ass I am. I’m angry that my life is apparently worth so little because I had sex. I’m angry that people would literally try to fucking murder me by sending me a list of fatal herbs via a ‘helpful’ email. And that is to say nothing about the picket lines I will most likely have to cross. That speaks nothing to the shame that this society will attempt to thrust upon me for this situation. It speaks nothing to the anger and rage I feel that the penis which was actually attached to the condom apparently becomes utterly invisible.

I resent this fetus. I resent the fuck out of the fact that something which is 1/16 of an inch long and which looks amazingly like a reptile trumps the life of a woman and her three children. I resent that this glob of cells which is smaller than a wad of snot is clearly valued more than the life of a 34 year old woman who is trying like hell to support her existing kids.

So Z, I can answer your thoughtful question. Some women treat embryo’s like parasites and say the most awful things about them and act in seemingly cruel ways because they’re fucking pissed that something that small can be worth so much more than the life they have struggled to build. And you know what? Maybe it’s putting our anger into the wrong place, I know that argument could be made, but sometimes, after you’ve heard one more person tell you that you should die or be murdered you get fed up.

When you see that pregnancy stick you understand that if you’re not willing to raise another child for 18 years and you need to get an abortion that you are about to become one of the most reviled and hated segments of society. When I looked at that fucking test and saw it come out positive I fell apart because I knew, in that moment, that I would be facing some of the most violent and horrific people out there. People who want to see me die, people who say the most vile, horrific things imaginable in the name of the ‘life’ that is inside of me.

Where is that anger going to go? When you know that you’re crossing that fucking picket line where those protestors will be screaming the same sort of shit that those commenters did, well….where does the anger go? When you understand that there are those that would fucking KILL you, leaving your existing children to be raised without a mother you start resenting that potential life more than you’ve ever resented anything before.

I know I do.

I resent that Dubhe was forgotten. I resent that I continue to get emails and hate comments because I took EC. I resent the misogynist language that people are using to describe me. I resent that there are so many that would have me put a gun to my head, or, better yet, they’d do it for me all because I had sex. I resent that something which should be so simple will require me to go to that clinic 4 times and walk through those hateful, nasty protesters over and over again to fix. I resent that while I worry about a fucking clinic bomber the man, who was wearing that condom when it broke, only needs to worry about how he will take time off of work.

I resent that this potential life is given more consideration than any of the lives that will be poorly affected by it. I resent that I need to cough up $450.00 for the fucking abortion pill and that my insurance won’t touch it. I resent that I am made to feel like I must explain myself or else face the wrath of the psychos. I resent that the same sort of shame is being forced onto me by this as the shame that was forced onto me when I was raped as a child.

I resent that if I talk to people about it, about my feelings, about my fear and my anxiety that I may very well be the target of death threats, hatred and condemnation.

I resent that so many people would like to see me hide myself because I was awful enough to consent to sex. I resent that this is an issue that, while I need, desire and want to talk to people about, I must hide from everyone because to tell them would mean that I instantly become a ‘worthless cum guzzling whore’ who deserves to be ‘brutally raped before being slaughtered in the most painful way I can think of’.

I resent that something so painful to deal with, something so terrifying and life altering is something that instead of getting support over I am condemned over. Do you know why I haven’t posted something long and thoughtful about this? Because I’m tired. I’m fucking tired. I can only be kicked back to the ground so many times before I start thinking that I need to just lay there and stop fighting against it.

I haven’t done something about it because I know the hate mail and the hateful, horrible, disgusting comments I will receive. Quite frankly I’m tired. I’m tired of weeding them out and I’m tired of seeing them. How many blows can one woman face before they begin to become angry?

And so what happens is that the malicious and horrible way that women are treated builds up inside until they become angry and resentful. What do you do in the face of such hate? You strike back. You strike back by attacking the thing that they deem to be more important than you. More important than the years you have spent building memories and building security.

Don’t think for a moment that there won’t be horrific comments and emails sent to me as fallout for this either. Don’t fool yourself into believing that it won’t happen. It will. It has and it will happen again.

So yeah, I’m angry. I’m pissed as fuck and I resent the hell out of this zygote for having more right to life than I do. I resent it tremendously and I resent that I have to have it in me one more day.

So, to all of you who wonder about the seeming cruelty of women when they speak of aborting in tones of laughter. Try to think about the hatred that they’ve experienced and understand that it is a tactic intended as a huge “FUCK YOU” to those that would say that the embryo inside of them is more important than their lives and the lives of their children. It’s the best they can do to fight back against people who want them dead. People who would seriously murder them.

Yeah, I’m resentful at this circumstance. But perhaps, to those of you who wonder why women are resentful, the more appropriate question would be, why do people feel entitled to strip these same women of all humanity and dignity for the sake of the fetus inside of them?

*sigh*. I know that this post will garner plenty of hate mail but I refuse to be shamed and to those of you who laugh and say I deserve it I say this: When the abortion pill starts working and I expel the parasite from my womb I shall dedicate it to you when I flush the toilet.

And THAT my friends, is a big FUCK YOU to everyone who thinks that this fetus is more important than my, or my children life.

Bite me.

~BB

(Z- I want to say that these last comments weren’t directed at you *wink*. I think that your post raises a question that many people have and, speaking for myself, I had an answer to it. The hateful remarks are dedicated to those people, both past, present and future, who will slam me and tell me that I’m worthless for making this decision. I hope that you understand that the anger here isn’t directed at you, but at those who have repeatedly tried to knock me down for being uppity enough to thwart them by taking control of my own reproduction.)

You know, I hear many forced birthers cite time and time again that abortion, EC and so forth are ‘bad’ because of the poor little baby. Often times these folks are of a religious bent and they try to guilt women by telling them that the ‘baby’ is just as good as a breathing human being.

Now, I have many, many reasons for being (as one blogger put it) radically pro-choice. Some of these reasons carry different weights on different days. Clearly, one of the biggest reasons is because without reproductive freedom for ANY reason women aren’t free. My feminism ties very closely with my radical pro-choice views. My views on the environment also ties in closely with my pro-choice. I am not a moderate pro-choicer by any stretch of the imagination. I’m all for RU-486, or the abortion pill, being available to any woman who asks for it with no questions asked hell, I’d advocate over the counter sales if there are no health risks attached.

From actual mechanical abortions to Mifepristone (abortion pill) to EC to plain old birth control, at any time during the pregnancy and with no questions asked (other than actual medical questions) I’m pro-choice. One could say I’m ardently pro-choice, or even rabidly pro-choice *grin*.

One of the many reasons I’m pro-choice is due to my spirituality. I hear a lot of talk about the souls of these 2 week old ‘babies’ from the Christian camp who tend to believe that god on high has given someone a ‘miracle’ when he ensouled a fetus. Now, I don’t usually post about my own spirituality on this blog but some of you have heard me allude to my spirituality in a joking way over the EC thing and I’ve received several emails asking me about it so I’m going to go ahead and bite the bullet and tell everyone what I think about fetus’s and souls. Hopefully I can give everyone a good laugh while I’m at it and make everyone wonder if I’m serious or not *wickedgrin*. What follows is my interpretation of souls and babies and why abortion is a good thing.

Ok, let’s assume for a moment that all the religious types are right; let’s assume that humans and every other living organism has a soul. So here we are, a bunch of souls running around in human suits (or dog suits, or fish suits or whatever…souls aren’t just for humans you know *wink*). We’ve got our human suits and when we die we turn back into fun little blobs of spiritual energy, our souls are released from our suits when we die.

So, at the moment of death our souls just sort of leak out of our bodies and we’re just a ball of light that runs around all pure and happy and stuff.

Now, if you’re a Christian you may believe that you get whisked off to heaven or hell or wherever you’re supposed to go. If you’re a pagan you likely believe that you jump into another body and start again in a fresh suit. If you’re an atheist you believe that you just kind of blink out, but if you’re BB you believe that you kind of zip around creating as much havoc as possible.

Heh, let me explain. Here’s my theory:

Souls are like waffles! Yep, that’s right; we’re all like a great big bunch of cosmic waffles made up of all these little squares. Now, through our lives we are soaking in butter and syrup. Now normally we’d like a waffle that has lots of butter and syrup but for the purposes of my spirituality we’ll assume that butter and syrup are bad things. For the purposes of this analogy butter and syrup make our waffles mushy and unpalatable.

So, all our lives we’re soaking in butter and syrup. Now, some of us are big waffles and some of us are small waffles, like those tiny little waffles that are on the kids menu at restaurants. The reason that some of us are small waffles is because we may have become too soaked with butter and syrup to be a palatable waffle anymore. When this happens we have to undergo a painful ‘dewaffling’ process in which Mother has stripped us of the icky waffle squares and, being the master recycler that she is, recycled them and left you with however many squares were salvageable.

In any case, when we die our waffles sort of leak out of our human suits and we realize that we’re waffles once more. Normally we get really happy about this and say, “Awesome man! School’s out! It’s summer break!” and we prance around excitedly at the whole new world before us. We see all these other waffles kind of hanging out and having fun and we buzz away from our now defunct human suit and begin hanging out and having fun along with them.

We take a quick inventory of how many squares we have, sometimes we may have lost squares and sometimes we may have gained them, but then we’re off to party with the other waffles that are buzzing around.

Now, if you’re one of those gigantic belgium waffles you may hang out at slumber parties and make Ouija boards move on their own. Or maybe you’ll slam a few random doors and freak people out, who, after all, are still trapped in their human suits and have forgotten that they too are waffles. The bigger waffle you are the more fun you can have.

But there is a drawback. See, our human suits are also important. They act as a ‘battery’ that keeps us running and once that battery goes out you’re on borrowed time. If you’re a bigger waffle you’ll be able to have a longer summer break because all those nooks and crannies tend to hold more of a charge. But if you’re a smaller waffle then your summer break is shorter (maybe you have to go to summer school, I don’t know) the point is that if you’re a small waffle then you don’t have as many golden brown nooks and crannies that you can subsist on indefinitely.

Eventually all waffles become weak and then, a ‘miracle’ happens.

But before we can talk about the miracle we need to turn our thoughts to a newly impregnated female. When a female (whether that’s a human, or cat or even a housefly) is impregnated it changes her waffle signals. Once that little zygote is formed the waffle in the woman suit becomes a bit like a magnetic waffle. Yep, that little zygote needs a waffle to fill it and thus it begins to act like a magnet.

Now, here we have this woman kind of running around in her human suit but her energy has changed and now she’s a magnet and she’s running around oblivious to all the waffles who are hanging out at the pizza shop and enjoying summer vacation.

So this newly zygoted female is buzzing around and all the waffles are going, “OH SHIT! There’s a magnet! Get out of here! Run! Run!!” and the waffles scatter and bolt because they’re all having fun fucking around with slumber parties and passing themselves off as the Christian god to good pastors around the world (where do you think all those prophecies come from and the idea of the rapture? It’s really waffles talking to waffles in their human suits! Waffles are quite amusing when they realize what they are)

And so when a magnet shows up the waffles all bolt as quickly as they can. They run screaming from slumber parties and away from haunted houses as speedily as possible. It becomes a virtual waffle stampede! And this is where it gets fun.

As the waffles are running away screaming “The fuzz is here! Run! Run!” the bigger ones manage to outrun the smaller ones. And when the smaller and weaker waffles are too slow or too busy to notice the magnet coming their way they get sucked into the woman waffle whose energetic signature has changed with stupid sperm. Now, I think that the size of the woman waffle also plays a part in it. Maybe, if the waffle inside the woman suit is a big waffle, she can suck in the big waffles. I’m not too sure about this point and I haven’t given it much thought. However, the ‘miracle’ inside of the zygoted woman is more likely to be a busted waffle who couldn’t outrun the fuzz than an actual willing participant.

See, being a waffle is a bunch of fun. Hell, who wouldn’t want to scare people or talk people into believing that you’re a god or a faerie or dead Aunt Martha? And so the actual desire to be stuck in a suit again is pretty low. Most of the time waffles don’t want to go back to school, at least not until they’re ready. Now, the discerning waffles among us will realize when they’ve all but used up their battery and before they get sucked into another waffle they make a choice and they jump willingly into a waffle of their choice. But too many waffles get carried away with summer break and they party right up until their last night at which point they get sucked in anyway.

The problem is that there are way too many zygoted people running around and the poor little waffles can scarcely enjoy their well-deserved summer break without being sucked back in.

The good news is that we have abortions which give the waffle another shot at having fun. When we get abortions we release that poor waffle-napped waffle and free the little sucker so that she can continue to wreak havoc with Ouija boards around the world.

Unfortunately if the waffle was sucked into a woman waffle that has been seeping in the butter and syrup of Christianity then the poor waffle-napped waffle doesn’t stand a chance. And so the waffle is stuck in the zygote but it takes a long time for our waffle to forget how cool it was being a waffle and it remembers how much fun it had pretending to be Aunt Maude or making dishes fly out of cupboards and so it voices its frustration at being trapped by kicking relentlessly inside of its little waffle prison (human or animal uteri *grin*).

And then, when that waffle is born in a brand new human suit it screams and cries for no apparent reason because all of us old waffles stuck in our human suits have forgotten how much fun it is to be a waffle. The newborn baby is just pissed off and trying to tell everyone just how much it sucks that it’s stuck in another human suit.

Unfortunately the baby forgets soon enough, it’s like a coping mechanism for waffles because if they remembered just how much fun it was to be a waffle free of a human suit then all humanity would be committing suicide at the age of two. And of course that’s not good because then all the waffles are just running around with no Ouija boards to fuck around with and we wouldn’t want that!

Now, everyone has been both male and female waffles so one time you may get to be a magnet (which, after you die you remember and you laugh about) and the next you may get to be a waffle that runs scared from the magnet. It’s like a big game of waffle tag wherein sometimes you’re “It” and other times you’re “Not It”.

So you see, the ‘miracle’ of pregnancy is really just a waffle-napping *nodnod*, some poor waffle was just minding its own business when it got sucked into a magnetized waffle. To most waffles abortion is a boon because being stuck in human suits is uber boring compared to the fun you can have as a waffle.

The moral of the story? Think of the waffles, have an abortion.

~BB

Post Script:

The best part of this post is this: Is it satire? Or is it real? Is BB simply pandering to the trolls? You decide. Either way, I think that starting a ‘think of the waffles’ campaign is a good idea *nodnod*

It appears that the fuss is beginning to die down a bit and I’m happy to say that with about 360 comments thus far on the EC thread and around 50,000 hits yesterday on sitemeter only a comparitive handful of comments have been negative. I modded almost all of the negative comments out but, as per usual, I saved them in a file.

I thought about letting the comments stay in the actual thread, but to be perfectly honest I figured that most folks aren’t going to read 360 comments and these gems make the pro-choice stance better than anything I could say. It would have been a shame to let them get lost in the shuffle when there’s a valuable lesson to be learned with them.

There’s too many of them for me to personally respond to them but I thought I’d give you a taste of the hatred that pro-birthers actually have of women. All of the comments are the original and none of them have been altered in any way. So, with that I’ll let the forced birthers show everyone, in their own words, why they’re all a bunch of sick fucks.

Here’s the parade of forced birthers.

joe: dirty whores like you are sickening.. deal with responsibility you abortion whore.

DAVID!!! :SUPPORT OUR PRESIDENT!!!! YOU LIBS JUST DON”T GET IT DO YOU!!!! JESUS WILL BE BACK ANY DAY NOW AND THEN YOU’LL ALL BE CRUISIN FOR A BRUISIN!!!!

Anonymous: Insensitive bastard WHORE!

kamakazibuttsecks: LOL!!!!!!!!

Amanda: Get your “boyfriend” to get a vasectomy. Or get your tubes tied. Problem solved.

bandit: ‘The fucked up leadership that this country is currently under has forced many people who were barely hanging on as it is into utter financial ruin.’
Right….it’s all somebody elses fault. Loser.

Michael: Logic would indicate that if you didn’t want to get pregant you shouldn’t have been screwing. You have a CHOICE not to get fucked, right? You’re sound as if you were rapped. Sex doesn’t happen on accident. You have no self control and now you have to have an abortion or a fourth child. Dumbass.

Conservative: Haha you whore! Ashamed is how you should feel.

firf jiggler: Well congradulations are in order here. Maybe if you are prego ,you will have a smart child who will grow up to be president and will change all those horrible laws that don’t allow you to kill babies.

john: You had me on your side until you described a baby as a parasite, and not knowing whether or not you are pregnant, you decided to suck down a shit load of alcohol and smoke cigarettes. It is the last paragraphs that make most people think less of you, not the sex part. And like most women like you, you want to put the responsibility of pregnancy on everyone else, but it wasn’t the doctors who made you have sex, you CHOSE to. You always have the freedom to chose, are you woman enough to accept the responsibility of YOUR choices???

aj: The Taliban would have had you stoned to death, and then let the guy go, because they had no proof that he was involved. With three children, wouldn’t be easier to get your tubes tied, rather then go through this every time the condom breaks? Now that you know what the attitude of the medical people around you is, do you plan on taking responsibility for your own actions, before it happens again? Like stocking up, as was suggested above. Or is it easier to blame others for your mistakes?

dragoon: wow most of you are horrible people. Should not have sex outside of marriage it’s your fault all this happened. Abrotion is evil and I can’t believe that you called a baby a parasite. No doubt that you are going to hell. Jesus taught not to kill. FUCK YOU!

cypher: I’m really sorry about your predicament. However, that said, I really don’t understand everyone’s position here. It is really disturbing to me to hear a living, growing, developing fetus called a “parasite”–especially since you’ve already got kids of your own.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I am “pro-choice”. I just believe that the choice comes when you decide to have sex–don’t do it if you’re not willing to accept a pregnancy. Condoms do break–the answer to that is not to get rid of the child. Contrary to what you believe, that child is *human* and without intervention will develop into a child. A living, breathing child. It’s just shameful the way people nowadays consider aborting a baby is no worse than popping a zit.

Oh, and for those of you that haven’t seen an abortion, you really should. I’ve been there for a friend of mine. Imagine seeing a glass jar fill up with a bloody fluid knowing that just moments before, that fetus was alive and developing. Had hands, feet, a heart.

America should be ashamed.

Jason: Too all you idiots blathering on here, here’s the opinion of an ACTUAL LAWYER: You’re a little slutty whore who couldn’t even own up enough to actually go see see a doctor. Thus, not seeing a doctor, means nothing ever happened. No discrimination or whatever other nonsense you feminazis wanna throw out. Had you actually gone to a doctor, they’re perfectly fine in denying you an Rx all the same. I can go to my doctor and say I need lots of crystal meth, it doesn’t mean he’ll write me an Rx for, because in reality I just want it.

It’s the difference between ‘want’ and ‘need’. Sorry you got screwed, in more ways than one.

Anonymous:
I wish that you were aborted. Get bent!

Jason: Admit to yourself you were a slutty whore, and break into a pharmacy.

hebdey1015: you are a dirty, dirty whore; aren’t you? WHORE! How much for head, biatch?

dumb bitch: What an obviously fabricated story, stupid bitch. Yes, it is George Bush’s fault you are a slut and can’t kill your baby, that’s right, ok… You obviously made this shit up anyway, what a dump loser, obviously a fat ugly chick who can’t get any so has to make up bullshit about “condoms breaking” as though you ever actually get fucked, bitch. hahahahaha

anon: There’s a really simple solution. If you don’t want to get pregnant, don’t have sex. It’s that easy. The whole (biological) point of having sex is something called re-pro-duc-tion. They go hand in hand. Suck it up and act like a responsible adult, and the next time you have any sort of sexual intercourse, have the maturity to understand what you’re doing.

dann: whaaa whaa whaaa i’ve been forced to live up to the responsibility of my actions! whaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i want to have sex without reprecussions! whaaaaaaaa
solution: people have sex, babies happen. live up to the responsability. girls, you play you pay. guys, grow some freakin’ balls and take care of your share.

mark: if the condom broke he must’ve felt it…i reckon he must’ve known it broke but liked the feeling of your slippery vagina too much. sex definitely feels better without a condom – just ask this “dubh” guy (what the hell sort of name is that anyway?)

Ausblog: I am a pro-lifer who has no religious convictions at all . I didn’t need the fear of god or anything else to come to my decision, just a good sence of what is right and wrong.

You see we were all once a fetus. Is it beyond the realm of possibilities that when your mother first learned she was carrying you, she may have considered her options? What if she had decided to terminate? Would that have been OK?

You would not exist, if you have children they would not exist, and your (husband or wife) would be married to someone else. You would have been deprived of all your experiences and memories.

In this day and age with terminations being so readily available and so many being carried out, if you make it to full term you can consider yourself lucky. Lucky you had a mother that made the choice of life for you. Don’t you think they all deserve the same basic human right, LIFE?

I’m all for contraception, prevention is certainly better than termination.
Did you know you can get an implant that is safe, 99.9% effective, and lasts for three years? Just think girls not even a show for three years, wouldn’t that be great? I think too many people rely too heavily on the last option (abortion), I think if abortions weren’t so readily available people would manage their reproductive system far better resulting in a fraction of the number of unwanted pregnancies.

World wide there are over 50 MILLION aborted pregnancies each year. In America 3,500 terminations carried out every day, that’s over 1.3 million every year, 50% of all cases claimed that birth control had been used, 48% admitted they took no precaution, and 2% had a medical reason. That’s a stagering 98% that may have been prevented had an effective birth control been used. Don’t get me wrong, I suspect the percentages in Australia would be much the same.

Just a lot of unnessessary killing.

I am convinced that in the not too distant future, people will look back at many of the practices of today with disbelief and horror.

At the point of conception is when life began for you. This was the start of your existance. Your own personal big bang. Three weeks after conception heart started to beat. First brain waves recorded at six weeks after conception. Seen sucking thumb at seven weeks after conception.

memeandme: be responsible and quit whining on here, oh the doctors wouldnt give me a pill…booo hooo hooo. Either get your tubes tied or have your boyfriend get fixed. How damn hard is that? No but instead you choose to come on here and bitch about doctors not giving you a pill. Give me a break. And for everyone on here applauding you. They obviously arent thinking straight either, or they would tell you to get your tubes tied.

Anonymous: You should have given the ER a try, you raging slut! lol seriously, though. it sounds like you just phoned a bunch of clinics and, based on what you heard nurses trained in protocol say, decided ‘hell, ain’t no way the doctor’s filling my prescription, I’m going to sob now, humanity is doomed’.

you can negotiate. some doctors are reasonable people, even out in hicksville or wherever you live. most of them take their jobs really seriously with the hippocratic oath and shit. they don’t like mixing politics and practice. I would have asked the nurse if the doctor seems like the religiously conservative type.

Better yet, I would have called back your doctor, told her about the bullshit they’re giving you at the ER with copayment, dumb irrelevant questions, and everything, and ask why she’s sending you there. it’s her job and duty to care for you. if you don’t like her answer, then kindly inform her you’ll be switching doctors for her failure to care for you in this serious situation properly, ask the sympathetic nurses to refer you to a better doctor, and get that prescription.
damn

Anonymous: Doctors take an oath to save lives. In recent years it’s become hard for them to distinguish when life begins and whether or not EC violates their oath.
It’s unfortunate there isn’t a more diverse opinion among the doctors in your area but this isn’t a case of “the man keeping you down”.

The idea you would be so desperate to OD on BC is apalling. Do you understand the success rate of using BC as EC? The risk it poses to a potential life?
And what if that hypothetical baby was born? Not only would you have a kid you didn’t want but that child would probably have needs exceeding that of a normal healthy baby.

Or would you just try to pawn it off on another family?

You’re concern wasn’t a medical emergency. Pregnancy doesn’t quite rate with a heart attack. Sorry if a child doesn’t quite fit into your life plan at the moment
This isn’t a morality concern but one of ethics, there is a difference. Get off it and take responsibility for the possible outcome of sex.

You can respond if it makes ya feel better, but I won’t be back to read it.

Anonymous: Some hambeast managed to trick a lonely schmoe into fucking her, and his gunny-sack breaks. So she piles her jellyrolls into her clown car and zips around town looking for cunt pills. Of course because she lives in bumfuck Hickston and it’s infested with Christians who have no sympathy for her unmarried, child-spewing misandry, THEY WON’T SELL HER THE CUNT PILLS. For once, the retarded churchies do something right.

What I can’t wrap my head around is that some guy willingly stuck his cock into a chick who runs a blong named “The Biting Beaver”, with a graphics of a female beaver chomping a cock in half. What’s worse, the subtitle reads “Exposing the Heart of Patriarchy and Destroying It”.

WHO WOULD FUCK THIS GIRL!?

Anonymous: PWNED!! Here’s an idea, don’t be such a whore! Then, you won’t have to force poor emergency room doctors who didn’t sign up to be abortionists act like Planned Parenthood.
Idiot.

Anonymous: lol go 2 hell lol

White Male: Hey BB, you dirty whore. GET MARRIED YOU FUCKING SLUT. Have a nice day.

Bob: Reference this sentence “Oh and if I end up having to get an abortion I’ll ask if I can keep the little parasite”

Nice. I bet you’re a great mom with an attitude like that towards children. “Come, little parasites, time for dinner! Let’s all have a pre-meal discussion about how you ruined mommy’ life!”

Anonymous: I don’t understand. There was a condom involved, which implies the presence of a penis. What sort of man would fuck a feminist?

That’s all of them for the moment. I think they make the pro-choice case better than I can do myself. I did notice something that stood out as I was marking these comments down, so, being the curious mind I was I began writing down the names that people chose to use when commenting.

Now, there are a total of 32 comments. Here’s a breakdown on something I thought may be interesting.

Note that there was only one person who retained a female name. Twelve commenters used decidedly male names like ‘Mark’ or ‘Jason’.

Now, it’s clear that this is but a tiny little sample on a random blog that, in the big scheme of things, is pretty damned small. You can take these numbers as you want and I won’t extrapolate a meaning to them outside of ‘hmmmm’. In any case, what IS striking is that during all of this Dubhe became completely invisible.

Indeed, he thought about posting something last night in regards to this phenomenon but note how none of these raging lunatics said things like, “That fucking whore, why the fuck did he let his dick out of his pants?” or, “You know that whore that fucked you should have been more careful!” Afterall, the condom was on his dick when the accident occured, so it’s odd that there are so many who wish to call me a ‘dirty whore’ when it’s apparent that Dubhe and the role he played in this, is utterly, completely forgotten.

Funny how he became the invisible man in all this eh?

Oh, I’d also like to note that I actually received several death threats via email through this entire ordeal. Not to mention the ‘advice’ I received via email that was written to sound like real advice but, upon further inspection the herbal ‘cures’ that he recommended taking were lethal. So, not only were there deaththreats but I received at least two emails that were disguised as ‘helpful’ which listed deadly herbs for ingestion. But yeah, the forced birthers have a hard on for life eh? So much for that idea. Apparently I deserve to be, in effect, murdered because I used contraception.

The reason I mention that is because I want to warn women out there. If you ask for advice on matters like this and someone sends you something then please, please, please check out the voracity of the claims. Be safe my friends because some of these guys really want you dead for wishing to control your uterus.

Also, there was another interesting comment that I meant to attend to but it has become lost in the shuffle. It was from someone who brought up a very good point which, during the process of defending myself, living my life and so forth, I neglected to mention.

This commenter mentioned that this planet is already so overpopulated with humans that we’re destroying everything and they noted the absence of this reason in my posts. I want everyone to know that this is yet ANOTHER reason that having a kid is out of the question. This planet is suffering the plague of humanity and this push for reproduction is going to overwhelm this world entirely at some point. I’ve contributed to this problem three times and while I very much love my children I have also decided that I will not be bringing another person into this already stressed global ecosystem.

Also, I wanted to note that in the flurry of comments I think I let through a few comments in other threads that I wouldn’t normally approve. I got overwhelmed and a few times I just glanced at the comments and approved them without actually reading them.

The other thing I wanted to mention was that some people wrote to me telling me to publish proof of this fiasco. They wanted names of hospitals and so forth. Now, I have actually sent these names to NARAL but I will not, I repeat, will NOT publish the names of the hospitals on this blog. Anyone who has spent any time reading what I write understands that I’m not a well known and loved celebrity. Indeed, my religious beliefs alone have gained me a stalker and I have 3-4 people who would just LOVE the opportunity to find out where I am.

The simple fact of the matter is that with these sorts of vitriolic comments coupled with the normal run of the mill cyber stalkers I have I would never, in a zillion years, publish something that someone could use to find me with. So no, I will not give you more information although, for what it’s worth, I have informed a few local people and will most likely be getting names out locally. I guess it’s just up to you to believe this story or not because I will not be putting any information out here, on this blog, that could be used to track me down.

Despite the fact that some people apparently believe otherwise I am quite happy and I have three children whom I love and adore. I’ll be damned if I’ll jeopardize any of that just to prove to a bunch of strangers that my story is true. Of course, it seems to me that the fact that there are so many people siding with the hospitals and doctors on this one should tell you something about the possibility, indeed, the reality of situations like this.

Ahhh well, I have things to do today so I need to get away from this computer. I could end this by trying to explain (defend? justify?) myself again but you know what? I don’t owe an apology or an explanation to any of these asshats and I’ll be damned if I try to make my incident rise to the level of ‘acceptability’ amoung these people. And with that, I’m off to get some shit done today.

It seems that the recent flap here at The Den over the EC fiasco sent a few folks shuffling through the archives and posting all willy nilly on my anti-porn posts. Of course, this is not unexpected since that most beloved of all patriarchal doll babies is pornography and any threat to the almighty power of porn (either real or imagined) must be taken as a personal assault. And so, our pornified friends have been popping in on random posts and spouting the exact same porn-defenses that I have repeatedly addressed in my many different posts about pornography and the dangers it poses to women and children.

Of course, each and every single one of these people believes that when they click on the ‘publish comment’ button they honestly have some enlightening piece of wisdom that I have never addressed. I call this the ‘Silver Bullet’ line of thinking. All of them come up with a tired old song and dance that I have dealt with ten times over but each and every single one of them believes that they have found a unique perspective on a topic which I have studied time and again. All of them are sure that they have come up with the silver bullet needed to take down this anti-porn feminist.

And so it continues. I post an article discussing, in great length, why a given argument doesn’t work. I post statistics and numbers and studies. I post government findings as well as scholarly works devoted to the subject of pornography and the damage it does to women and children. I go through my hard drive and peruse the internet looking for the newest information available to back up my claim that X excuse has been debunked 1000 times over. I wrap it up in a neat little bow and publish it.

A week later some idiot leaves a remark on a different anti-porn post giving me the exact same excuse that I debunked on another post a mere week before. And of course these folks think that they are the first ever to give me this particular excuse, they seem to believe from the pit of their indignant little guts, that they have stumbled across my ‘silver bullet’. Now, when I get these people with their self-proclaimed ‘original’ theories I roll my eyes and shake my head sadly. Their comments put me in the unenviable position of either:

1. Letting them get through moderation where theirs will be the very last comment on a thread that has been inactive for some time.

2. Refusing to unmoderate the comment and deleting it instead.

I normally decide to do #2. My reasoning is simple. I am well aware that people peruse the archives; many people stop by here on their journey through feminism. The very last thing I want them to see while they’re hunting through the archives is the half-assed comment of a twerp who couldn’t be bothered to read the gazillion other articles I have written on the topic. The last thing I want is for a budding feminist to read their tripe (which I have carefully debunked in other posts) and believe that the uniformed argument actually has merit.

Indeed, the very fact that I never addressed the comment can sometimes lead a person to believe that I couldn’t address it. And that, in and of itself, can instill doubt in the anti-porn argument for a new feminist. With this in mind I simply delete the comment whether it was a polite comment or whether it was a rude and nasty comment.

This almost invariably leads to another problem. The next day I will wake up and begin the morning process of unmoderating comments and I will, almost without exception, see this sort of thing in the moderation queue.

Well, I see that you only approve comments that you like just to make it look like everyone agrees with you. What about free speech? Aren’t you a believer in free speech?

I can almost smell the indignation and self-congratulations coming off the comment as I smile again, roll my eyes and delete these comments as well. The funny thing is that these guys always walk away believing that they have not only been unfairly moderated but also that their flimsy argument is 100% sound. They are certain, in their small minds, that they really DID find the feminist silver bullet argument.

The truth of the matter is that I have no desire to rehash the same tired argument I just dealt with a week before. The truth is that if they can’t be bothered to read the many links on the sidebar or, at the very least, the tons of articles I’ve done on the topic then I can’t be bothered to engage in the same debate with them particularly when I’ve already debunked their argument weeks before.

So, here’s a message to all of you who feel so put out that BB didn’t post your comment. If I didn’t post your comment to a post it’s because I’ve already addressed it in another post!

See, here’s the deal. I’ve already heard your argument and defended myself against it in a post that most likely took me hours to research, cite and organize. I’ve spent hours of my time and hours looking up statistics, personal accounts, scholarly articles and so forth and I’ll be damned if I’ll go through it all again just because you’re too lazy to look it up.

In the first three months of running this blog I debunked every pro-porn argument more times than I can count and, to date, I have not found another original argument.

See, here’s the deal. I’m not going to lead you by the nose through feminism. I have no intention of arguing the exact same point that the last fly by night troll handed me a mere week ago. If you want to post a pro-porn argument on one of my old (or new!) posts then don’t even bother until you’ve checked the links to the many anti-porn sites on the right side of the page AND the archives links to old posts on the left side of the page. If you really want to argue with me about pornography at the very least you must inform yourself.

I will not debate a point that I have addressed time and time again. I don’t care how polite you believe your comment to be, if I have addressed it I won’t be posting your comment. If you have a truly original argument (very, very unlikely) then I will take a stab at it however I will warn you that I haven’t seen a ‘new’ argument in years.

Time and time again I put my effort into constructing logical posts that take hours to research and complete. As a body of work this entire blog has, at some point or another, dealt with whatever ‘unique’ and ‘bulletproof’ argument that you have posed. You are not special, or brilliant or even all that logical. So, if you have posted a comment containing an argument that you believe to be rock solid and I have not approved that comment what it means is that you are unoriginal and I have already tackled your particular argument before. Indeed, it is most likely that I have dealt with it again and again and again and I won’t be your teacher. If you wish to learn the anti-porn stance then look at the links and the archives, the material is out there. If however, you simply want to argue a point that you pulled out of your ass without checking out first then be forewarned:

I’ve heard it before and I’m not going to be your personal mentor

If you have a serious argument that I haven’t heard, one that is unique and insightful it’s likely that I will deal with it, probably in its own post. But I’m not going to publish comments which detail arguments I have had so many times I’m blue in the face and I definitely won’t be leaving your already debunked argument as the last comment on a thread that is months old.

Do the research. Clearly you know how to use google and surely you know how to click on a link. Once you have read all you can read on this site and others and you’re STILL certain that you have an argument that hasn’t been covered at great length by any of the radical bloggers or incredible feminists that I’ve linked to on the site, THEN you can post and only then will you actually have a shot at getting your comment up.

So, if you’re one of the unfortunate people that I have not let through moderation don’t assume it’s because your argument is the feminist silver bullet. It’s not. It’s just that most feminist bloggers have neither the time nor the inclination to deal with your same old-same old comment that they dealt with just last week.